with
Mike Bellah
"Mending Wall" is about walls (barriers, fences) that are no longer necessary, that exist just because they always have, and because no one has the presence of mind to challenge their purpose.
Could it be that we midlifers build walls, or at least allow walls to stand, that are not useful, that may even be harmful to us?
Fear of change might well be the most formidable fear we midlifers face, and tradition or habit ("his father's saying") might be our most formidable wall.
The Walls We Hide Behind
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.
"Mending Wall," by Robert Frost is one of my favorite poems, not only because I like the rural nostalgia and wry humor of the poet, but because of the point that the verse makes.
"Mending Wall" is about walls (barriers, fences) that are no longer necessary, that exist just because they always have, and because no one has the presence of mind to challenge their purpose. In the poem, Frost imagines two neighbors who meet once a year to repair the rock wall that separates their orchards. One man points out to the other that, though it may add decoration, the wall is no longer useful:
His is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
Yet the recipient of these words is undaunted from his purpose: "He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'" The first man wonders if he could put a notion in his neighbor's head.
Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
I've been thinking about these words lately. Could it be that we midlifers build walls, or at least allow walls to stand, that are not useful, that may even be harmful to us? For, as the poem suggests, when we wall things in, we also wall things out. So a wall that we erect to protect us from bad things might, in actuality, protect us from good things too.
Is pride a wall we construct to keep us from feelings of inferiority? Could it also keep us from admitting wrong and consequently from experiencing reconciliation with others? Is inferiority itself a wall we build to protect us from feelings of shame? But does inferiority also wall out the faith that would have us develop new strengths and abilities?
Does "I've never liked to read" really mean "I struggle with a learning disability that I'm afraid I can't overcome"? Does "I just don't like computers" really mean "I'm afraid that I couldn't learn to use them if I tried"?
I'm convinced most of our unnecessary walls are built because of fear. We fear rejection so we don't meet new people (who could turn out to be our best friends). We fear failure so we don't take on new challenges, and we fear disappointment, so we stop hoping. And so fear walls out the very opportunities that could bring us what we really want: acceptance instead of rejection, success instead of failure, life satisfaction instead of disappointment.
Finally, Frost concludes his poem by mentioning the reason the poem's unenlightened farmer keeps on repairing an unnecessary wall:
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of wood only and the shade of trees,
He will not go behind his father's saying.
And he likes having thought of it so well.
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Fear of change might well be the most formidable fear we midlifers face, and tradition or habit ("his father's saying") might be our most formidable wall.